The memory is like a cat scratching my heart.

Sometimes in the dark of night I begin to think. And I wonder if Lee started all this violence.

The lives that Gertrude has touched would fill this whole hospital. She'd give you her heart from her body if she could put it back.

I had difficult mother, difficult childhood like she had. She is Sagittarius like I am. I almost died from broken heart because of love. And she really did.

How cruelly sweet are the echoes that start, When memory plays an old tune on the heart

Back on its golden hingesThe gate of Memory swings,And my heart goes into the gardenAnd walks with the olden things.